


Illustrado

by spycaptain, tropicalgothic



Category: Naruto
Genre: Akira (OC) - Freeform, Arisa (OC), Hikaru (OC), Illustrado, Naruto AU, Orochimaru (mentioned) - Freeform, ptsd mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-05-28 23:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15060443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spycaptain/pseuds/spycaptain, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tropicalgothic/pseuds/tropicalgothic
Summary: Post-War. Post-Returning to Konoha without the cursed seal. Post-learning that her old teacher (to whom she was little more than a failed experiment, left for dead) was allowed to roam the village freely, unpunished. Post-realizing that Konoha didn't give a shit about anyone of them. Mitarashi Anko could be done with her life. Or, she could begin a new journey, in another country at the edge of the desert.





	1. Chasing Twisters

Twice Mitarashi Anko has died in this lifetime.

Her heels kicked up a cloud of sand into the air, fine as the smoke from a funeral pyre. Her racing heart was the processional drum. There were even people accompanying her in this race towards death— two Chuunin (fresh greens too young to be promoted except in desperate times like post-war Konoha) three kilometers behind her.

The desert landscape was merciless to foreigners— and they all were. Unused to the way their sandals sank with each new step. But the kids had all the stamina of their youth.

Her? She could feel the ache in her bones, the sting of a wound she could no longer ignore, and this pop-pop-pop all over her body. Worse and worse for every pulse of chakra she pushed to her feet.

They’re catching up.

Anko pulled out two more kunai from her pouch. Slipped two paper bombs out of her vest pocket. Attach. Ignite the flame. Turn and toss.

The spray of sand bought her five seconds of lead time. One to dodge the hail of needles, one to pull out a scroll from her vest (lighter, and lighter. How many more materials did she have left?), two to create the hand seals. One for the snakes to emerge from the scroll—- lunging towards the Chuunin with poisoned fangs.

Pop. Pop. Pop. On her hands and up her arms.

Snake blood on the sand, and one Chuunin writhing in pain, but the other didn’t stop. Neither was the pop-pop-popping on her arm.

She dove down a sand dune and took a sharp turn to the left. Then right. Slide to the playa. Dive into a row of cacti (with just enough space in between for her to slip through, unscathed). Sharp turn left. Ignite another paper bomb. Sharp turn back into the sand dunes. Slip a paper bomb out—shit, she’s out of kunai. Cow skull at her foot— kick it up, attach, ignite, turn and toss.

The drum of her heart drew faster and faster towards a climax. Her vest was light. No kunai. No scroll. Three paper bombs. All the exhaustion sinking into her bones. Either she miraculously out runs him— or he catches her, and drags her back to Konoha. Back to the hell-hole that kept monsters like her old teacher in their village. And then demand her service, as if the anger boiling in her gut didn’t have a right to be there.

The only part of her they can drag back to Konoha would be her rotting corpse. She’ll seal acid into her mouth, activated when they drag her through the gates.

Maybe then she can spit in their faces one last time.

Anko pushed chakra into her feet until she glided over the sand dunes. Until she could feel the pop-pop-pop in her toes, at the soles of her feet, climbing up her ankles like little centipedes. Until the sun-soaked sand burned into her skin.

Until she was forced to stop at the sight of a wall—— stretching from the sand dunes all the way unto the sky, blocking out the sun. The wall of sand moved towards her with the force of a hurricane.

Caught between the devil, this unstoppable force of nature, and the thousands of knives that pricked her legs.

Twice Mitarashi Anko has died in this lifetime. First, on the cold laboratory table. Second, with the blood, the chakra, and all her faith in Konoha bleeding out on the forest floor in the middle of a war that forgot about her. Then now, as she charged head first into the raging sandstorm.

Third time’s the charm.


	2. Respira

There was a weight over her when she woke up. Sand and more sand found its way into her mouth when she tried to breathe. On one hand, Anko could lie there until the heat of the desert sand burned her skin. Just be done with it already.

But her body refused to lie still. It clawed and clawed until the tips of her fingers could wiggle freely. Anko surfaced from the sands, gasping for air. For every inhale, the dry air scratched her throat. Half of her was still buried under the sand, but Anko managed to turn all the way to her left, and then all the way to her right. Her eyes scanned through the horizon for any familiar landmark.

Anko threw her head back and laughed.

Just her luck. She was parched, famished, exhausted, without chakra, and stuck in the ass-crack of the godforsaken desert.

She laughed until the dryness rose up as a scratchy cough at the back of her throat. Just her fucking luck.

Anko dragged her lead-heavy feet out of the sand. The air felt like thorns on her legs. Not quite numb, not quite painful... more prickly. She tried to stand up but her legs felt about as useless as a newborn fawn’s.

There was a sharp chakra-spark in the horizon— headed straight for her. “That bastard just won’t give up.”

Just her fucking luck.

Enemy headed for her. Legs that couldn’t keep her up. Her hands frantically felt around the sand for something—- _anything_ that could be used as a weapon. A twig, a skull, a stray kunai——

“Hoy!” Anko froze at the sound. "Is someone out there?”

The voice was not a familiar one. It came with the chakra-spark on the horizon, moving steadily towards her. She still didn’t have a weapon.

“Hoy!” Anko could make out shadows just up ahead—— one, two, and a slightly taller one in the middle. One of the smaller ones ran towards her with legs that glided effortlessly over the sand. Anko braced herself. Her arms held steady in front of her, waiting to attack.

But the shadow against the sun was too small. A child. Short brown hair; wearing a light summer dress; her small feet never sank into the sands. "Mama!" The child waved her hands to Anko and cried out to the others in a foreign language.

Anko refused to relax her stance. Even children are capable of great damage. Especially to her. Especially at this state.

“Hey!” The tallest one started running towards her too. Exhaustion weighed heavy on Anko’s bones— too tired to fight. “You! Just stay there, okay? We’re coming to get you.” Anko noted the shadow’s speed, the way they knew which parts of the dune to avoid, which parts could propel them forward, and that familiar running stance.

Shinobi. _Shit._

She turned around, dragging her feet across the sand. Maybe they’ll find her more trouble than she’s worth and leave her in the sands before they get to their village. Whatever village they’re from— Konoha will find her, and drag her back.

“Girl! Stop moving— you’ll make it worse.” The shinobi, a woman a bit shorter than her with dark hair and a button nose, moved in front of her— her hand glowed green with charka. The shinobi reached for her arm. Anko drew it back with a hiss, digging her legs into the sand in case she needed to lunge forward.

If the only weapon she could hold were the daggers in her eyes, then so be it.

“Fuck off.”

“Alright, viper,” the shinobi held her hands up and took a step back, the green chakra fading. “I’m not going to do anything to hurt you—— but you’re bleeding on your side, and your chakra pathway system is just…” The shinobi paused and bit her lip before continuing. “It’s seriously fucked up. Collapsed like a deflated balloon. Girl— I don’t even know how you’re still standing… Not doing anything would be what hurts you in the long run.”

Anko didn’t move from her spot— her hands in fists in front of her, shaking legs braced for the worst.

The shinobi in front of her sighed. “Look. I don't know you, and I know you don't know me. All I can tell you right now is that I'm a medical shinobi--- my name is Akira, by the way. I am a latent sensor and from our station way over there, I could feel your chakra leaking out. On your arms. On your feet. Big time on your neck over there."

Anko's hand slowly touched her neck— exactly where her old sensei sealed her fate. Even in foreign lands, this was a secret she couldn’t hide. Orochimaru told her that she was strong, told her that she was precocious, told her every lie he needed to say to keep an awestruck student by his side, eager to do everything he wanted her to do. The desert was at her throat, in her chest (vast and empty). She sighed, legs collapsing beneath her.

No more lies. “I’m tired.” 

She closed her eyes and let the weight fall with the burden of the past two decades on the grainy desert sands.


	3. Primum Non Nocere

She was slower than the two children who walked by Akira’s side— the little girl in the sundress and the older boy who carried a backpack that he guarded with his life. He told her that it was ‘very important’ and that it was his ‘special job’ so he had to do good. Hikaru was his name. 

Arisa folded the ends of her dress into a little basket and collected rocks and other precious finds along the way. Occasionally, she shared a rock with Anko. Earlier today, it was a flower Arisa picked from a nearby cactus.

Anko touched the flower, tucked neatly behind her ear. All the fight in her dissipated in favor of watching this small family walking before her (after insisting that they lead the way, several feet in front of her). Their small feet were used to the desert, never sinking too deeply into the sand.

Soon enough, there were less and less patches of sand. They were replaced by a more solid ground. A road. Then grass—- thin and dry at first, slowly becoming more green, more lush, until she could see the outline of trees just up ahead.

“What village did you say this was again?” Anko shouted, scrambling to catch up to them.

Akira turned back and wrinkled her nose. “Girl, you don’t need to run that fast. You’ll hurt yourself. And it’s not an official village— but I guess functionally it counts. We’re headed towards ‘Sunrise Cove’. Because Kaze no Kuni is the land of uncreative names.”

They walked through a small pathway where the trees parted and the ground was cemented. Even with her damaged chakra pathways, Anko could feel eyes on her. Guards. She could see parts of old traps, disassembled for their arrival. There were plants lining the edge of the road— the kind she only saw in textbooks back when she was in the academy. Plants that could enhance genjutsu and were native to Kaze no Kuni.

The eyes on her didn’t let go of her until their party exited the pathway and she could smell the sea breeze.

Anko’s eyes widened at the sight of this ‘unofficial village’. There were houses made of cement. The stores and stalls spilled into the streets with colorful cloths hoisted up to be their shade from the late afternoon sun. Arisa and Hikaru ran to meet their friends, ducking beneath a clothes line carrying a whole set of white bedsheets.

Akira didn’t stop walking, and so Anko quickly followed her guide— a lot more closely this time, lest she be consumed by the crowds. Children playing. Old men gambling on their porches. Women trading goods in the marketplace. Men bringing large buckets of fish and shouting in a foreign language.

Further along, the cement houses gave way to houses made of dried leaves and coco lumber. There were even houses out on the sea— sitting on a raft or standing on stilts. A few hammocks tied to coconut trees— a mother rocking a sleeping infant in one of them. A group of men starting their festivities early, hoisting up a beer bottle each.

“I might have agreed sooner if you told me that the village was a beach vacation place,” Anko said, kicking at a few of the shells by her feet. She could feel the numbness and the putrid sensation coming back. Akira patching her up could only go so far (only as far as Anko let her).

“Would you agree to see my friend now that you know it’s a beach vacation?” Akira laughed. Forced. For a shinobi, she’s not very good at hiding her worries and the way she keeps looking back at Anko. See if she’s still there? Or to see if she’s collapsed, dead on the floor.

“Your medic friend? I thought you were a medic yourself.”

“Yeah, but I have never, in my entire life, seen something like this.”

“And your friend has?”

Akira was silent. Her eyes rummaged through her brain to find the right answer. She found none. “I think it’s worth asking.”

That was all Anko had to go for: a possibility. But anything was better than nothing, right?

They found him on the beach, surrounded by patients in this ‘outdoor clinic’ with the sea water lapping at their feet. The man had blonde hair that ended just at his shoulders. The curve of his nose, how his eyes were shaped—- those from Konoha knew them as ‘Sunagakure features’ but she supposed it must have been common anywhere in Kaze no Kuni. His hands never glowed green but she imagined they were warm when he laid them on the old man’s chest, feeling for a heartbeat. He didn’t look like a shinobi. Didn’t hold his stance like one. Didn’t approach a patient like the medics she knew did.

It was when he finished examining the old man and finally turned to her that she saw it; when she met familiar, world-weary gray eyes. Shinobi.

“Good after—- ah, oh my—-“ his eyes quickly scanned through her, and just as fast, he reached for her hand. Anko’s arm stiffened (anticipating cold pale hands, a leveled voice giving orders and instructions, the sound of a pen on paper, a flock of tall men in large white jackets with a red stamp saying ‘doctor’ on their chest).

His arm stopped just before it touched her. The pause and worry (it’s evidently some emergency to have ignored the flock of patients behind him) hung thick in the air before he turned his hand— asking instead of reaching forth.

“It hurts, doesn’t it? Is it worse when you touch it?”

Anko didn’t move. Her eyes scanned through him— sizing the stranger, noting his too-open stance, counting every pocket that could hold a kunai or a shuriken, and the crowd behind him that Akira was trying to disperse. She searched for anything, anything at all that would tell her that he’s not worth trusting. Her eyes finally settled on his outstretched hand.

“Not more than the usual. At least, not at a touch.”

“Something else, makes it worse then?”

The desert was at her throat. Rough, dry, and the answers couldn’t pass through— instead, they would sink into an uncomfortable knot on her stomach. Buried beneath sand and more sand. It’s hard to breathe. She could stay silent until whatever this was burned through her like a firecracker.

“When did it start?” The man still held up his arm, outstretched and asking.

_Months._ The knot in her stomach churned. _Months ago. Ever since the end of the war. Getting worse, and worse, and— and—_ The knot rose to her heart, gripped it until the false bravado deflated like a balloon. And then there were the sharp thorns on her feet, refusing to be ignored.

“I— I can’t do anything anymore,” Anko’s voice trembled when she spoke. “Ninjutsu never turns out right anymore. I can’t summon with my contracts anymore. I c-can’t open seals without making worse. I can’t even mould chakra. I— I can feel it spilling—-“ She held out her hands. There were small spots a shade darker than the rest of her skin, spreading like a drop of ink on parchment paper. Slow. Irreversible. “And it hurts—— a lot. Always. But especially now.”

He waited for her to finish before he lifted his hand, almost touching hers.

“May I?”

Anko nodded her head, her hands trembling.

“Alright. My hand will glow green— that would be my chakra reaching out to see the extent of what is wrong. It might feel a little foreign. But if it hurts, or if you feel uncomfortable in anyway… let me know, alright?”

She wouldn’t have noticed the chakra if she hadn’t been looking for it, anticipating it like the clammy hands of a cold blooded snake. But it was there--- light and soft, like grass tickling her finger tips.

"There is damage in different places," the man narrated as his hand moved to her other arm. "I can feel your chakra seeping out of the pathway and into the muscles, against nerves--- that's the part that's causing pain." He lowered his hands, "I can drain the chakra there to lessen the pain. But treating the damage would take more time--- without treating the underlying cause, the damage would get worse and the pain would come back."

Anko wrinkled her nose. He was asking her to stay in this village. Official or unofficial--- she didn't know who ran it and she didn't know their international relations. They could hand her back to Konoha--- all patched up, just the way T&I liked it. Alternatively, she could be handed to scientists and other men in white jackets instead of the interrogators.

She felt a shiver down her spine at the thought.

“Look, I appreciate the offer…” Anko pulled back her hands and cradled them close to her chest. Without the warmth of the chakra, she could feel the full weight of the pain. “I hope you understand. I’m not so inclined to letting strangers help me.”

“But if it isn’t repaired, then—“

“Then all sorts of fun things happen. I know.” Perhaps, for the best. Anko turned around and walked away, “Sorry for wasting your time. I’m sure you have other patients.”

“Wait—“ The man followed her, trying to block her exit out. “Wait— okay— if you don’t want me to heal you, then maybe a bath, some change of clothes, and supplies would be okay?”

“Are you saying I stink?” Anko did. But the medic opened his mouth in protest, only to close it again. Like a fish out of water trying to be polite to a stranger in need of a bath.

Anko stayed quiet. She figured a bath wouldn't hurt.

“Then after the bath, I go?”

“Then maybe join us for dinner—— hey, hey, hear me out. The desert night gets really cold. It’s not good to travel alone, and certainly not without food and water… you don’t look like you’ve had a proper meal in a while. Then maybe, you can think about your next step after dinner? Whether treatment or if you really insist on going…”

How domestic. Being invited to dinner like they’re next door neighbors. As if things could be so simple. Her hand went to the wound on her side where the blood has just dried.

“I’ll definitely heal that too.”

“No it’s— I’m— I’m not safe.” Anko could imagine her old friend, the new Hokage, writing her information in the bingo books, distributing them to her other friends. Would they understand her defection? Would they wonder? Would they shrug and track her down like good shinobi? “It’s not safe to keep me here.”

There was a long and heavy pause between them. The medic broke the silence. “You’re not the only one in here hiding from a village. Oh—- no. Not… no one here is dangerous. Just weary. And they haven’t been found. Does that sound like an alright place to stay? Even just for a little while longer?”

Now, it’s her turn to be speechless. She could feel the thorns on her legs start to rise up; feel her muscles begin to ache; the acid in her growling stomach; the words getting lodged on her desert-dry throat.

“I’ve got nothing.” Anko gestured to herself— blood stained clothes and dirty shins. Not even a kunai to spare. “I’ve got nothing to give.”

“How about a name? I never got yours.”

She looked down to her feet, to the right where the shadows were setting up the torches to light up dinner. Anywhere but at the medic while she verbally signed some contract where seemingly nothing is expected of her in exchange for healing, and food. (There’s bound to be something. There always is. She’ll be lucky if any of it was on her terms.)

“Anko. You guys don’t have family names right? So just Anko. And you? Or do people just call you Mr. Medic.”

He laughed-- the polite kind you make at a lame joke. “My name is Yashamaru.”


	4. Tipping Point

It’s official. Anko has apparently agreed to something in a language she didn’t understand— that’s the only possible explanation for the five children in front of her, wordlessly offering a piece of food to her one by one. That’s on top of the banana leaf plate that Akira has stacked high with rice, and fish, and crab, and another fish, and some orange sauce. 

Just a few hours ago, the pain had been constant in her legs, in her arms, on her neck— slowly spreading until she couldn’t outline its borders. She had been dirty and tired with her last meal having come from miles and miles away.

Then Yashamaru gave her this medicinal drink and a litany of disclaimers--- it’s not for long term use; the effect will be less and less with continued intake; this is only to ease her pain now but she needs a better examination; it’s going to taste a little sour.

She drank it before he’s finished what he was saying. It did taste sour.

But in maybe thirty minutes, she started noticing the difference. Surreal was an understatement. Anko hasn’t felt this light in months. After she drank the concoction, they let her take a bath and Akira gave her a change of clothes. There’s more food on her plate than she can finish— and they still keep offering her more.

Arisa pushed yet another dessert towards Anko. It looked like a hairy red bug sitting lonely in the middle of a plate. All five children patiently watched her with large round eyes until she put down the crab leg and picked up a morsel. Hikaru held up one of his own. He showed her how to press on the fruit until the skin broke and the juices flowed out.

“Chom-chom”, Hikaru said before munching on the fruit. [1]

“Chomp-Chomp? Like biting? Nom-nom?”

They only laughed at her and repeated the word. They laughed again when Anko did chomp on the fruit, only to find a large seed in the middle.

“Fruit is chom-chom,” came a voice behind her, heavy with a foreign accent. It was a young woman, maybe 12 years old, holding a bowl of rice. She offered it to Anko but only got a burp in reply.

“Oh gods, you really are all trying to fatten me up. Next thing I know, you’re apparently some cannibalistic tribe who feast on the bones of unfortunate travelers.”

The girl laughed and spoke in that other language— it sent the younger kids into a fit of laughter, offering her innocent looks and shaking their heads. “I say hi. My name is Suki,” she placed the bowl of rice down and took a seat beside Anko. “Um, I am eldest sister. This is little brother, baby sister, friends are three. Hm.”

“Anko. Driftwood washed in by the tides of misfortune. Not a lot of you here speak the international language. Where did you learn?”

“I learn from Mama, in another village. We are very…” Suki cupped her hands around an imaginary ball, waiting for the right word to come to her. “By ourselves. People speak Kaze. No one new to speak international language. I am surprised Mama brought you. Are you friend?”

Was she? Anko couldn’t find the answer. Mercifully, Hikaru began chattering and it seemed that Suki got her answer there.

“Oh! You are staying here in our house? Not at big tent?”

Anko knit her eyebrows together. “I haven’t been told where I could stay. I don’t know about the big tent.”

Suki’s smile fell. “Oh. We cannot go to big tent. Only shinobi stay there. They come one day, two day, three day, then go. Come back maybe? Maybe not. But I like talking to Anko. Are you staying long?”

“Hoy!” Suki’s head snapped up— apparently caught by her mother. Akira threw a stream of words as the little kids whined (all the while Anko sat in silence, scooping up the last bit of rice and milk-fish with her hand). Finally, their protests died down and they all marched back home with Suki leading the way.

Arisa came back just to pour more of the little hairy red fruits on Anko’s lap. “Chom-chom,” she whispered, like some dark secret before darting out. Anko wondered if these fruits were stolen from somewhere.

“Did you send them out into the fields as punishment? They look pretty disheartened.”

Akira shook her head, taking the recently vacated seat opposite of Anko. “I was setting up one of the bedrooms in our place for you. But then I realize that I have four demonic children who would, and have already started disturbing you. So I told them you’d stay elsewhere.”

“Is that the big tent Suki mentioned earlier?”

Akira wrinkled her nose. Oh. Was that top secret? “Nah, not there. The tent is much closer to where the village meets the desert— the pathway through the trees? They’re there on the off-chance we need to defend ourselves. Also to quality check new shipments, since we get those rarely.”

She eyed Akira. Believable. But incomplete. Then again, she supposed it won’t matter all that much.

“So, where am I staying?”

x.X.x

“I apologize, the mattress is rather old.” Yashamaru fixed the mattress, pillows, and blanket for the umpteenth time. All the while, Anko stood awkwardly at the door frame, clutching a pillow close to her chest. His shadow moved behind the mosquito net, fluffing up the pillows again.

“You really don’t have to fix it. I’m used to sleeping on the ground. Gravel. You know— like in missions.”

Yashamaru stood up, finally satisfied with the way the bed was set. His house was made of concrete with walls that were left unpainted and undecorated. One bed with a small table on the side. One workstation. A small cabinet. A couch made of bamboo with a thin sheet folded neatly on it. The only other room in his house was the bathroom—— the kitchen was outside. Oh, and there were little chickens who scurried under the house when she approached. But the windows were large and the wind was cool. That was enough for tonight.

“If you need anything, I’ll just be on the other side.”

Anko nodded her head. He didn’t have to try so hard to make her comfortable. “I’ll be fine.”

She sat on the bed, watching Yashamaru light up a scented candle and then heading to the couch. The moment he settled himself to sleep, Anko pulled out a rock she had been hiding in her pillow case and hid it behind the set of fluffed up pillows. She didn’t have time to sharpen the rock, but it was hard and heavy and it would do.

Rude, she knew. But it was a realistic precaution.

Even with the rock, sleep did not come quickly to Anko. She lay awake, wondering about the next morning. She thought of the last morning—— spent on the run, and learning that even the small animals were too fast for her when she was in constant pain. 

She remembered the mornings before that, when she was still in Konoha. Iruka nagging her about getting a decent breakfast— and no, dango did not count. Proud Iruka who couldn’t stop talking about his student and how he changed the course of the shinobi world. 

Funny. She never felt that change. Konoha still left so many of them broken and without anywhere to lean on. She could see Yamato who looked older than his years, his DNA permanently changed (again) after the war. The Hokage (the new one, her friend. Does Kakashi still remember being friends with her once?) made him follow after Orochimaru, the man who left him for dead, and then made the medics follow after him in case his body started to fail too early.

‘Why?’ she asked him. Yamato stood behind a post, waiting for Orochimaru to finish his meal. His own was a sandwich packed too hastily for his morning shift. ‘Why do you let them do this to you?’

Yamato opened his mouth and said——

Anko heard a light scratch. She opened her eyes, back in the bed, to look for what woke her up. The small scented candle was still beside the couch Yashamaru was sleeping in— well, he was no longer sleeping. The candle cast a dim shadow on the floor next to Anko. The shadow was sitting up, holding something in his hands. 

There was that scratch again and the shadow turned a page from his book. She watched him finish his book, then quietly rummaged for something else— a notebook he would then write on. Soundless.

The quiet unnerved Anko. Yes, stealth was a basic competency for shinobi, but so was being able to hear subtle movements. She was good at that. She was also watching him from behind the mosquito net. She _should_ hear him make some sound— at least walk through the bamboo floors like all the other medics who never really needed stealth.

But he made no sound— only the scratch of his pen against the surface. Nothing from his arm resting on the table, or sitting himself on the chair. Nothing when he bored of writing. 

He grabbed a few coconut palm leaves from outside and began folding little toys. She tried to guess what they were from behind the net--- A bird here. Another bird. A fish. A little flower. A basket. A basket but this time with a handle. A hat. Anko watched him in that eerie silence, cutting and folding the leaves until they formed some sort of shape.

Eventually, he ran out of leaves. Yashamaru left all his little creations on the floor and headed back to bed. He didn’t fall asleep, Anko could tell. But she was tired, and didn’t know what time it was anymore. So she did.

x.X.x

Anko woke up the next day to a very familiar chatter coming from outside. Yashamaru’s little creations were gone from the floor and she could see the little cloud of smoke coming from outside. Breakfast being grilled.

She sat up and frowned. They’ve already fed her this giant dinner, gave her several good sets of clothes, and now they’re going to have breakfast. Plus, she’s still waiting for Yashamaru to check her chakra pathways.

Didn’t they hear it the first time she said, ‘I’ve got nothing to give’? What are they getting from her when she can’t even repay a single meal?

That’s when her stomach growled. She could smell the shrimps being grilled. Anko groaned into her hands and stood up, heading for the door.

When she got outside, Anko was greeted by an excited Hikaru shouting out “Good morning, Anko!” He was cute, especially how the ko had a kh sound when he said it. The kid seemed proud of himself— up until he had to ask Suki how to say another word. “Breakfast.”

Anko nodded her head and took a seat on the porch where they were all gathered. There was a small table with tomatoes, cucumbers, and mangoes laid out. Arisa was quick to offer her a young coconut, the kind that had a lot of juice and very soft meat. “Where’s Yashamaru?”

“He is at back grilling meat,” Suki explained. She had the palm leaf flower Yashamaru made tucked behind her ear. “We chop vegetables.” Arisa nodded her head thoughtfully, holding up the half sliced green mango. Anko took a sip from her coconut before taking her place in vegetable chopping duty.

Yashamaru came soon enough with a large plate of grilled shrimp, fish, and some scrambled eggs. “Oh hey! You’re awake.” 

“Yeah, just now. Hoping the shrimp is as good as it smells.”

“Well, don’t eat it yet without the garlic rice. I still have to run up and get i—“

“Yashamaru,” Anko interrupted him and plucked out a small fish from his pile. “I don’t mean to rush you, but I thought that you’d have a look at the damage… ah, yesterday?”

“Oh. I’m sorry— I assumed you would have wanted to sleep more. That was my mistake. I should have asked. I apologize— ah. I was thinking after breakfast would be good? The clinic is a short walk away and there’s a table with equip——“

“Can we just stay here?” Anko’s eyes met him with a plea for all of one second. Then she turned away— as if she had any right to ask for more. “I meant just… if that’s alright with you. I’d prefer it.”

“Bad experience in the hospital?” He didn’t seem to mind.

“Sure. Something like that.”

“After breakfast in the house then?”

Anko nodded her head, “After garlic fried rice, yeah,” and took a bite off the fish’s head.

x.X.x

They’re not in the clinic, just on the porch outside. The kids were washing the dishes in the kitchen at the back of the house. She could hear Hikaru singing something while he did his work. Not in a clinic. No white walls. No sterile smell— just the mangoes they ate earlier.

Yet Anko still shifted uncomfortably on the bench. Her hands were folded on her lap, arms flat on her sides as if a rope were tied around her.

“I’ll start with the physical exam. Are you ready?”

There were no more palm trees. Just large vats of fluid, illuminated green with various specimens floating. They all have faces. They all have eyes. There was no warmth. Everything was cold. The clink of metal instruments. The snap of the surgical gloves. A shadow looms over her.

_‘Shall we start, my dear?’_

“Anko?” It’s not his voice. It’s not his face— blonde hair, grey eyes. It’s not his voice. “Are you okay?”

_‘No.’_ Anko nodded her head. It’s so cold.

The silence hung thick between them. Anko’s arms were tensed, waiting for the push of chakra into her system. He hasn’t even touched her but she could already feel the insects crawling on her——

The door slammed shut beside her. Back at the porch. She could smell the mangoes. Anko looked around, confused. Yashamaru was gone. Hah, probably frustrated with how she’s acting. Of course. Stupid girl who won’t sit still for a simple exam. There’s still too much green (trees, vats, it’s hard to tell) and too much cold around her. Maybe she should just go.

Just when she was about to stand up, Yashamaru came back outside with a small stack of notebooks and paper. He put on a sheepish smile before laying them on the table, “Ah, sorry for disappearing like that. It was rude of me but I just needed a few notes. This isn’t something I’m very well versed on.”

“And here I thought you abandoned the exam.”

Yashamaru took a seat beside her, shrugged, and then turned to her with a smile. “I was thinking I’d just ask you a few questions instead. To be completely honest, I’m not entirely sure what I expect to see with your chakra anyway. I hope you don’t think that’s incompetent just—— I thought starting elsewhere would be better?”

Bullshit. Yashamaru knew exactly what he was looking for. She remembered the way his eyes scanned her when they first met. One look and he saw how bad it was. Probably something in her skin. Or she just looked bad. Medics had that—— some weird dojutsu that could classify okay, sick, dying, and no chance of survival in a blink of an eye.

Not that she was complaining. This was okay.

“So where should I start, medic? With my childhood? That sad backstory everyone’s required to have?”

Yashamaru laughed. Too polite. He didn’t really find her funny. “If you’d be comfortable with that.”

Her eyes were trained on the horizon, where the sun was creeping up a little higher. “No. I’m not.”

“How about from the first thing you felt different? How long has it been since you noticed a change?”

Months. Yes. Six months? Or six and a half. She woke up in the hospital. In the ICU, actually— which was really interesting because it meant she was important enough to be rushed back to her village instead of being treated on the field.

First, it was pain on her neck. Like it had been torn open. Or bitten out by a rabid dog. No, no tingling on the hands— at least not at that moment. Yeah, lethargic. Fatigued. Not much of an appetite either. It took a while until the medics came over to explain what happened.

Shock? Anko remembered one of the medics mentioning it. It happens, they said. Rarely to this extent, but shinobi do use up their chakra past the point that their bodies could take. Up until she didn’t have enough to maintain daily functions. But well—- that was expected. They had been fighting. 

_That’s what you do right, fight until you’ve got nothing left to give. Hah. The shit they sell us._

Procedures? Anko thought for a while— they did mention pushing a medic’s chakra into her until they got her to the hospital. Someone was stationed to give a chakra push every now and then. It always hurt when they did that. So when Anko went home, she tried creating more chakra by herself.

Then there was the pop-pop on her fingertips. Her neck. Her hands felt tingly— like when you hit your elbow in the wrong place and you feel little pinpricks. At first, they were just little but then they got worse.

Yashamaru scribbled on his notebook every now and then, but for the most part he was just looking at her. Listening intently. Anko wondered if she had given any wrong information— he had never thought to correct her if she did.

“I’ve never been able to successfully do a jutsu since waking up,” she felt something heavy sit in her chest. “Never molded chakra without pain. Just enough for seals— but that would leave me exhausted beyond belief for the rest of the day. And even then, on most days I don’t stay out for too long.”

Yashamaru nodded his head, pausing to make sure that Anko finished her narration. “Did something happen before you fell unconscious?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean— you woke up in the ICU. So something must have happened to cause the loss of consciousness. I’d like to know if you were fully unconscious or if you could hear things. Feel things. If this happened after doing a jutsu, or if it happened out of nowhere. Or if someone performed a jutsu on you.”

Kabuto— the monster he turned himself into. She remembered the snakes. Shot out from both their arms. The large white one was his. The sharp fangs that bore down on her arm. The fucking leech poisoned her (all of Orochimaru’s experimentation on creating the best antibodies, and this bookworm created something else. Figures.) 

But she had been half awake— feeling a snake coil around her. Hearing voices. Feeling that pull from——

“Anko, if you’re not comfortable answering, that’s fine. We can—“

“Then why did you ask for something when you didn’t need the information anyway?” Anko snapped. And why was he sitting beside her, all formal and mild mannered like a pup? She knew what he was doing— forgoing things he needed because of her. Feeling out a stranger’s needs even if it makes it harder for him. As if they haven’t already fed her, and clothed her, and given her the better bed for the night, and then fed her again. “How is that supposed to help? Point is, my chakra system is fucked up. Whatever caused it, it’s still fucked up! Or are you just picking and prodding on my brain before you put shove your chakra through my skin.”

Anko didn’t wait for the confusion to settle in Yashamaru’s face before she walked out of the porch. Ignored the buts and the pleas to stay. And the apologies— always with the apologies. 

“I think I’ve troubled all of you long enough. I can find my way out of the village.”

She could hear Yashamaru scramble— whether she should follow her out or mind the children who were still finishing up in the kitchen. Anko walked fast, headed straight for the pathway with the concrete houses. She was just about to reach the forest path when she heard someone call out her name.

Anko sighed and turned around. Sure enough, Yashamaru was there. The man was still in his sort-of-pajamas. “Look. Anko. Wait. If it’s something I said, I can explain—“

“You don’t have to. It’s fine.” She took a step forward. 

He took one closer to her. “Knowing what caused the damage could help identify other potential sites of damage outside the chakra system. In case there’s nerve damage, for example. But—“

“I said it’s fine,” Anko snapped. “You’ve been more than enough help to me. Thank you.”

“Anko, p-please.” Anko wrinkled her nose when she looked at him, trying to put the most reasonable reaction on her face. Because he’s a damn good actor—- that heavy look in his eyes and the way his mouth was tugged down by some measure of sadness. All for some stranger he just met. Bullshit. It’s got to be. “Please know that you surviving this for six months means we have a good shot at fixing it. That it’s getting worse might mean—— and you don’t even have food. At least let us—“

“Why do you insist on helping me? What are you getting out of this?” Anko took a step forward, forcing Yashamaru to step back. “I’ve already told that I have nothing to give. No money, no food, I can’t even stay in the shinobi tent because I have no chakra to help with. Did you just want to help me because of what I have? Something you’re not well versed in yet? Are you trying to keep me here to fulfill some form of curio—“

“Hoy— you better check yourself before you start accusing Yasha of things.” Akira stepped in between Yashamaru and Anko. She was smaller than either of them, but that didn’t seem to matter. Not with the way her eyes held Anko’s.

“Then tell him to step away because I want to go.”

Akira looked Anko right in the eyes. “No.”

Yashamaru fidgeted in his spot. “Akira… it’s okay. We shouldn’t— I don’t— It’s not right to make someone do something they don’t want. Although I’m asking that you stay because I’m afraid of what might happen to you, I won’t force you to if you don’t want. Our doors are always open in case you decide to stay.”

Anko turned back to Akira. “May I go now?”

Akira didn’t budge. She stood tall as a raging sandstorm in Anko’s path, her eyes resolute. “In case Yasha wasn’t clear enough— if you leave, there’s a 50% chance you’ll still be alive within the next week. That is, if you were able to find food, find water, walk in the sand without using your chakra to keep you from sinking. And to answer your question on why we help— yes, it is to fulfill something. But no, it’s not curiosity. You could have just been dehydrated and we would have taken you in. We would have clothed you. Yasha would have prepared a fresh batch of NSS because gods know our last shipment didn’t come. 

“We do this to fulfill a promise. To do everything we can to save a life. Gods know we’ve seen enough deaths to satisfy a hundred lifetimes. I’m sure you remember the last war. So no, you’re not allowed to die.”

Anko felt a weight on her chest. There was no way she could convince herself that Akira was lying. It was much easier to just let her go, and yet—— there was a lump in her throat. Like sand scraping the surface.

“Look, Girl, you look like you have issues. It’s not a point against you— we’ve got a whole club of people with that. All of them shinobi, go figure right? I don’t know what issues you have. I don’t know who convinced you that people would only help you for profit or that everyone is out to get you— and I’m not asking! But,” Akira looked up at Yasha, letting a silent conversation settle between them before turning back to Anko. “If you want to be helped on your terms, then these can be services. You pay for it in kind or a service of your own. What do you have to offer?”

Anko looked at both of them in disbelief. What could she offer for everything they’ve done for her? She scoured through her head for something she had. Did she still have scrolls? Maybe she can—

“We would also like it if you shared some knowledge,” Yashamaru offered, with that sheepish smile she’s come to associate with him trying to apologize without words. “Like, ah— Can you cook? We’re hard pressed to figure out how else to cook the fish here.”

Akira turned back to Yashamaru, “Are you calling me a terrible cook, Yasha?”

“You do always burn the fish.”

“What if I like it crispy!”

“I know a lot about seals,” Anko offered. Yes. That was something she always had. “I can seal in food for storage. I can seal in information. Seal traps. Oh, well. I can’t actually seal them. But I can teach you how. I can cook too. If you can get the bigger fish like tuna, I do a mean sashimi. I can do manual labor.”

Akira nodded her head and smiled, “Deal. I’m looking forward to sashimi for dinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] The fruit in question is commonly known as Rambutan in certain parts of SEA (Malaysia, Indonesia, Philippines). In Thailand, I believe it's called Ngo and in Vietnam, it's called chôm chôm. Some people I know who are unfamiliar with the fruit mistook it once for sea food (I guess it resembles a sea urchin). Tastes a bit like Lychee. This note is both for visual reference and a small 'you should try it, it's delicious!' from the author.


	5. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for patiently waiting for this chapter. I'm glad to be able to finally find the time to give this to all of you. However, I am sorry to say that the time gaps between the chapters are not likely going to lessen. I have just started our fourth year in medical school and that requires being in the hospital for maybe 12 hours a day. In the next week, I might be going as much as 36 hours. With my spare time being spent mostly on studies, writing fanfiction is likely going to be a slow crawl. Rest assured that I am not abandoning this story and that I am going to continue writing a little bit each day. (spycaptain Sam will make sure I deliver something that's true to the theme of the story and true to the characters when I do publish a chapter <3 )
> 
> [1] Baka-baka is also called the longhorn cow fish. Search it out, it's a funny looking fish. Baka in Filipino means cow, but in Japanese, it can mean stupid. It's an interesting multi-lingual look to it.
> 
> [2] The description of the vessels can stand on its own. But if you'd like a much clearer picture, search out "vinta" on google images. There you'll see a bunch of boats that's famous in Southern Philippines. Obviously, I draw a lot of inspiration from my own experiences in my own country.
> 
> Without further ado, the new chapter:

The mouth of the cove was too small for the cargo ships Anko was familiar with. Especially after Suki mentioned that there were large corals in the way. The cove used to be part of Kaze no Kuni’s coastal defense. Anko could see that— the opening was narrow for a large offensive team from the sea.

Except that it’s entirely useless against a lone shinobi running across the water, in her humble opinion.

Either way, Anko wasn’t sure what to expect when Akira told her to accompany Suki in waiting for the delivery of supplies. It’s been maybe half an hour of waiting— with Arisa and Hikaru playing in the water. Anko, apparently, has a new pet.

“Baka-baka,” Arisa had said as she handed the little pail to Anko. A lone… square shaped (shit you not, it was almost rectangular) fish swam in it. Anko accepted the gift, even if she had nowhere to put it. It was cute in its own way. “Little Idiot” sounded like a fitting name.[1]

Arisa’s narrative on what the fish was, chattered in another language, was interrupted by Hikaru shouting “Papa!” and then running into the water. Right on the water, stepping on it as if it were sand. Anko knit her brows— Suki talked about shinobi as if they were a separate entity. Yet here her little brother was, using a clearly shinobi technique like it was nothing. He couldn’t have been older than five.

Anko’s eyes followed the boy who ran into the water oblivious to all the contradictions he has become to her. Trailing after him, she spotted the shadow of a sail on the horizon. A small one— becoming several small ones in the distance. She furrowed her brows and stood up to see better, careful not to disturb the little fish in the pail.

That’s when she saw it. A whole parade of boats— each with bodies as thin as a canoe, outriggers that stretched on either side like wings, and a mainsail that was a rainbow of color. Each boat had a different design, a different pattern.[2]

Anko stood there in quiet marvel at the sight of the boats coming into the shore. Then a large man dove down from one of the boats and disappeared into the water. Hikaru laughed when he saw two hands pressed together just above water, moving towards him like a shark fin--- laughed and ran back to shore. 

Alas, shark-man reached him before he touched land. Water splashed on all the spectators-- but none of the kids minded. Hikaru, especially, who laughed until his cheeks turned pink.

Once the shark-man finished ticking Hikaru, Suki spoke up and said something that made him turn to Anko. His skin was tanned like everyone else in the island but his build was large. Chouza was larger still but he came close.

No one had quite as warm a smile.

"You three are so lucky your friend came out here to help you," the man put Hikaru down and bowed in greeting. "Genji. I come bearing gifts from beyond the ocean."

"Anko. I come to transport things to the hospital with the little kids."

"Aaah," Genji nodded thoughtfully. "Gotta haul these out fast then." He turned around just as the first boat reached shore. "Nanami, get the scrolls with the sterile items for Mama. And the food--- oh you poor babies, has Mama been feeding you?"

They all shook their heads.

“Oh, good,” Genji laughed. “No wonder you’re all still alive.”

A young woman, perhaps in her 20’s, came down from the boat. She didn’t wear anything like the beach dress Suki had on— Nanami looked like she was geared up for something. Vest was stocked full of scrolls, a small pouch on her hip, and another on her leg. Her vest almost looked like a jounin shinobi’s.

Nanami wordlessly handed Genji a box of scrolls, each labeled with the items in them— applicator sticks, sterile gloves, gauze, foley. Suki got another box of supplies, except the items weren’t sealed into scrolls.

“Alright, you two take those to Mama and Yasha up in the hospital. And this too,” he placed a small parcel wrapped in banana leaves on Suki’s box. “I’m sure Akira is already famished.”

Anko turned to Arisa. “Can you keep an eye on Baka-baka for me? I’ll come back for him after this.” The little girl looked up at her father. Genji nudged her and whispered ‘Okay’.

“M’kay,” she repeated, holding the little pail of water close like her life depended on it.

x.X.x

She’s been to a field hospital where tents were hastily put up to give medics space to heal those wounded in the battlefield. She’s been to Konoha’s General Hospital where all the shinobi wounded in battle were imprisoned in until they got their clearance from the medics. She’s been to Orochimaru’s laboratory where her old teacher poked her with too many needles and took too many measurements and did too many terrible things.

She’s never been to a clinic like this.

There were three mothers waiting outside, chatting while their babies hung from multicolored slings. One old man sat on the porch, talking to a five year old child with a face mask and what sounded like a runny nose. More people sat inside, patiently waiting to be seen.

Yashamaru was busy talking to someone when they came— an old lady who set a chicken down on his desk. Anko couldn’t understand what they were talking about, but she wondered if Yashamaru doubled as a vet in this clinic too. He did have 3 chickens under his house.

At some point, they reached an agreement and the lady handed the chicken to Yashamaru. He held the chicken awkwardly when she and Suki stepped in to tell him that the deliveries were there.

“Perfect! Is there more lidocaine there? I think Akira might need them. She’s on the second room in a minor surgery. Knock before you enter.”

“Put down box?” Suki asked.

“Just at the office.”

Suki went ahead to the office and Anko stayed, her eyes still fixed at the chicken with a question. Yashamaru gave her a sheepish smile, “People pay with vegetables sometimes, crops they grow, things they make, or chickens. We barter more than we use money. At least within the village… Excuse me.”

Yashamaru stood up, chicken in hand, and went outside. Anko peered through the window to see him tying the chicken’s foot on a nearby plant. He tossed a few grains in front of the chicken. Anko could have sworn he was talking to the thing— except she couldn’t understand what he said.

She shrugged and followed Suki into the room. Before she entered the room, Anko was greeted by a crab trying to make its escape. Its pincers were tied with straw, but its determination was commendable. She’ll pick the little thing up later.

Suki was already arranging the materials in their proper shelves. There were folders, neatly arranged in a pile. The scrolls hung on another area, right above a long table with a set of trays. There was another table that was filled with different fruits, vegetables, and a basin with a few crabs that was slightly tilted.

Anko put the box she was carrying down on the floor beside Suki’s. Now to chase after the crab that got away. (The little thing didn’t appreciate being intercepted right at the door. But Anko did like the crabs they gave her last night.)

“Anko? Can you give Mama?” Suki handed her a small plastic vial. Anko supposed this was what Akira needed. She wandered around the back part of the clinic— past a room with an old microscope, past a room with one or two beds, until finally she reached the brightly lit room at the end of the hallway.

“Akira. Deliveries came by and Suki told me to give this to you.” Anko was about to place the plastic vial down on Akira’s materials when she suddenly shouted “Sterile field! Sterile field! Sterile field!”

Anko lifted up both her hands and took a step away from… everything. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry— what was it you said?”

Akira sighed, and placed one of her tools down on her work station. The situation looked awkward to Anko because Akira’s work station was quite literally a cloth draped over a woman’s arm and most of her chest— the operating field was confined to this small circular hole cut from the cloth. Said woman was awake and witness to Anko almost ruining something, apparently.

“I mean everything here is sterile. That means no touching. So, ah,” Akira looked around and pointed to a needle still wrapped in its plastic on one of the trays. “If you could please open the plastic careful not to touch it inside. Yes, and then drop it here on my tray. Yes, beautiful. Now please hold up the vial this way and I’ll just get a bit. Bless you, Anko. We really needed that.”

Anko nodded and did as she was told. So far, it’s been small errands. She hasn’t been asked about her seals— but seeing as two of the only shinobi she knew were busy tending to the sick, Anko didn’t dwell on it much. Small errands were good. She was being useful.

The woman lying down on the surgery table spoke up. She was looking directly at Anko with a smile. The woman’s free hand brushed through her hair. Akira laughed, sharing in the joke. There was no laughter in Anko, instead she could feel a frown forming. She hasn’t been able to understand the words behind so many people’s smiles and so many people’s laughter today.

“What did she say?” Anko asked.

Akira smiled at her, “Mama Akane here likes the color of your hair and thinks you look beautiful.” The woman said something again and Akira translated. “And that the day is bright and sunny and it could match a smile.”

Anko frowned-- dramatically, like a cartoon clown. A second later and with a small bow, Anko said, “Thank you. Everyone in this village is too nice.”

Akira translated for the lady. But given how long her sentences were and how the lady in the operating table was laughing, Anko didn’t think Akira gave the proper translation.

“Do you need anything else or should I go back to the office to make sure none of your crabs escape again?”

“I’m good right now. But anything fun for dinner tonight?”

Anko shrugged. “Yashamaru was holding a chicken earlier.”

“Nah. Those are his adopted children. Technically let them go already but they keep coming back. Probably because he keeps feeding them.”

“Sashimi then?”

“I look forward to your specialty!”

Anko nodded and headed out— but that’s when she felt something tugging on her sleeve. She turned back and it was the woman on the table, her free hand outstretched. She pointed to herself, “Akane” and then to Anko.

Again with a smile until Anko whispered her name.

“Anko,” she repeated, waving goodbye.

x.X.x

“I’ve got nothing to do for the rest of the day,” Anko told Genji and made that her excuse to sit beside him on the beach. “Time has come to a crawl after leaving the clinic.”

Genji was a stranger to her (unassessed, untagged except as a shinobi). It would have been the best time for him to ask her to get to work. Haul those boxes to the village center. Use this line to fish. Harvest some coconuts. Something.

Instead, she got polite conversation.

Nothing too invasive— Genji knew that she didn’t like topics dealing with where she came from. Why she’s here. Where she’s headed to next. Pretty much all of the topics he first brought up.

“Are you staying here for long?,” Genji asked, a small wave came up to tickle their toes. 

Anko wrinkled her nose. “They made it sound like I would die anytime soon if I didn’t stay here.” Apparently, that’s not allowed to happen anymore. But it’s not even sundown and she could feel it again. Not pain, but something familiar— like the smell of rain before a deluge. “So… a while, I guess?”

“That bad, huh?” His tone didn’t sound like pity and Anko was thankful for that. “Where are you staying until then?”

“At Yashamaru’s.” At the nice bed while he took the thinner mattress on the bench, without his own mosquito net. Yashamaru and all his apologies and all the ways he bends over backwards to make things more comfortable for her. And his chickens— the payment for his services that he apparently never claims as his own.

A few seconds pass between them. Anko assumed that the conversation died there, along with all her attempts at trying to be useful. Then, Genji asked:

“Do you want a place of your own?”

A beat. 

“What?”

“Do you want to build your own house?” He nudged his head to the area behind them where the sands met solid ground. “Most houses here are built with bamboo and coco lumber. Some dried leaves for the roof. It’s not that hard to make— give it 3 or maybe 4 days, sweat, and a few muscle aches. But it could be home, right?”

 _It could be home._ Anko let the thought sit in her gut— rolling with the fruits, and fish, and garlic fried rice from the morning. She considered the warm sun and the fine white sands of the beach. She thought of the children and their laugh. Then, she agreed.

It could be home.

For the rest of the afternoon, Genji explained to Anko the layout of the village. There was the center where the village was liveliest and where most of the houses were built with concrete walls. There was the beach front where most of the fishermen live, close to their boats— his own family lived there. It was really only Yashamaru who lived in the last station and so the area was about as quiet as the man was.

“The third station sounds nice. Especially the quiet,” Anko said. She remembered the area being surrounded by trees. There are some sounds that are easier to fall asleep to— like the ‘tu-ko’ of the gecko, or the whistle of the insects to go with the evening breeze.

At that decision, Genji pulled out a scroll from one of his jacket pockets and unrolled it. The first writings was a seal that contained the inkwell and the brush. Then he drew— with a purpose, like he’s seen the picture clear in his head. He narrated what the usual houses were made off while his hand glided over the parchment, drawing as effortlessly as he was talking.

It was too familiar. Anko remembered the boy from ROOT. The one who was in Yamato’s team. He had a clear picture every time he drew— and every time he drew, the pictures came alive. The boy hated dango, but ordered it every time they sat together wondering ‘so what happens now?’

“This looks good for now,” Genji said, running his chakra through the painting to let the ink dry. “If you ever think of wanting a bigger space or more rooms, it’s just a matter of building on what you’ve got. But this is good. Should take about 3 days. Plus one to gather the materials and find a nice spot.” 

He rolled the scroll back up and placed it back in his pocket. “It’s still a bit early, but I have to head back home and make dinner. You’re welcome to join in the preparation.”

Anko found herself learning how to grill skewered meat from Genji. She found herself cooking rice inside bamboo shoots with Suki and Nanami. She found herself listening into half-understood conversations between Akira and Yashamaru when they came back (with Akira’s not so lucky chicken that joined them for dinner).

She found herself, just before leaving with Yashamaru for the evening, touching the bamboo frame holding up the patio extension and thinking again ‘it could be home’.

“Anko?” she turned around to see Yashamaru already a few steps ahead, meekly walking back to her like a child asking for a favor. “Do you want to try again tonight? With the chakra pathways?”

Suddenly, tonight’s dinner felt too heavy on her stomach.


	6. Fuuinjutsu

The breeze was cool in their makeshift clinic just on Yashamaru’s porch. Cold. Anko could feel the hairs on her skin rise in protest. In opposition is the weight on her arms and on her legs. She has been good. She hasn’t used her chakra once that whole day. Still, they felt like sandbags strapped on her shoulders.

Her gut churned. The cold started to feel different.

“When I first got here,” Anko turned to Yashamaru who was preparing a few items on a nearby table. “Akira didn’t heal it herself because she said that she hasn’t seen anything like this.” Delay tactic #1. “And what unfortunate soul got their chakra pathways fucked up enough for you to get that experience?”

Yashamaru poured cold water into a bowl and then hot water into a cup. Tea leaves floating to the surface. “It’s not the same case,” he finally looked up at her, “But it’s similar enough. Not a destroyed pathway--- but I know a thing or two about foreign chakras in a person’s CPS.” He paused, her anxieties palpable even to him. Probably. Then he opened his mouth to speak again---

“Experimentation?” Delay.

“Ah-- no, not my own experiments. That would be--”

“Unethical. But there’s not a lot other reasons for foreign chakra in someone’s pathways. Unless you inject it in. Or seal it in… like the Jinchuu---”

“Anko.” He cut in. Suddenly, his anxieties were palpable even to her. Yashamaru took a deep breath and Anko whispered, “Sorry.” _I’m nervous. I know I need this. I don’t really want to do it. But---_

Yashamaru took a breath and sat beside her, carrying with him one of his notebooks. “Akira is a sensor. She feels chakra-- the different kinds, the flow, the amount. Part of what I know comes from what she told me.” He had a pencil in hand and started sketching the contour of a person on the page. Faceless. Sexless. Strapped down on the slab at the anatomic position.

“Your pathway has collapsed,” Yashamaru sketched the pathways--- normal ones on the right side; and on the left side, much smaller pathways. “There is a normal balance,” he pointed to the right pathways, “and your pathway makes sure that all the cells in your body get your chakra.

“With yours,” Yashamaru shifted to the left, “I think--- and this is just based on what I know now, so that might not be all correct--- but I think that your CPS was used to an old “normal”. And I am guessing there was a foreign chakra in it. Your body has adapted to that normal and when something changed, it could not longer function in the same way. So it’s cells change and now it’s actively pulling chakra from within the pathway to outside it where the cells are. 

“Because it doesn’t know how much to pull-- sometimes the pull is too much.” This time, Yashamaru draws a current through the small pathways, moving into the arms. “It floods the rest of the body, pushing against the structures… ah, muscles. Nerves. That’s likely the pain you’re feeling. If it gets worse, it could cause paralysis and loss of sensation… before that pins and needles…”

His voice got softer and softer. Anko stared intently at the drawing-- matching his explanation with her symptoms. With the fatigue. With the pain. With the pop pop pop in her arms. She took in what Yashamaru said… and what he didn’t say. (She imagined a hose, limp because the valve is only half open. Small holes on its side for the small amounts of water to pass.)

 _Use chakra. Open the valve the whole way._ Anko turned her gaze from the drawing to her hands. The small spots on them because of the harsh flood of chakra she used in those moments. _Look what happened._

“I need to drain your chakra,” Yashamaru explained. “Then we need to change the chakra pathway-- fix the root problem. But it’s already caused some damage, so I need to heal that as well. I can’t do everything in one go. So it will take a bit--- but it shouldn’t hurt. If it does hurt, please tell me and I will stop immediately.”

_Does it hurt, my dear?_

Anko could hear Orochimaru’s voice. He never stopped when she said it did. Still bit her neck even when she screamed. Anko doubted that Yashamaru would stop the procedure if it hurt-- he’s already delayed this long enough.

She was moving out of herself. Yashamaru was explaining to her how he would drain the chakra-- demonstrating on his own leg to show that there was no hurt. Orochimaru did explain his experimentations in his own way. Always made it seem grand. But he was never talking to her. Those soliloquies were never for her to understand or take part in.

_Do you understand, Anko?_

“Anko?” She snapped back into the moment. Yashamaru was looking at her with worried eyes. “If there’s any part of the explanation you want me to repeat or phrase differently, just say the word. And if you have any questions, even in the middle of the procedure, just ask.” He smiled-- awkward and unsure. Always looking up at her… looking for something…

Anko wrinkled her nose--- she’s a grown ass woman, and he’s explaining this to her as if she were a child. Opening doors to questions, and hesitations. Letting her worries in and saying ‘it’s alright. We can go through that again. Could I ask how you understood it?’

She felt a knot in her throat. “How do you know all of this?” Because when something looks too good to be true-- it likely is. Every shinobi knows this. “This knowledge isn’t something people usually get from books. I’ve checked.”

_I know I need this. I don’t really want to do it._

“It’s a long story. Actually,” They were small things one wouldn’t notice at first-- except she was Anko and she was searching. And Yashamaru was fumbling. (When he got up; when he excused himself; when he bumped into the table). “Very long. Perhaps, a story for another time. I should get something in the----”

“I’d like to know, Yashamaru,” Anko chased after him and blocked his way. Serious. She paused, wet her lips before asking again. “I know you know--- someone hurt me to put this chakra in. I need to know that you didn’t hurt anyone to get this knowledge either.”

She stood in front of him but Yashamaru wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was looking past her. Somewhere else. At someone else. Someone much smaller than her.

“I’m sorry,” Yashamaru said, barely above a whisper. Then, he said the rest of the words quickly, the way broken people do in an interrogation when they want to call quits. “I’ve hurt people. I’ve hurt people. My sister died. When she was… decades ago… and I’ve hurt people and I shouldn’t have and I should have tried better I should have said no and I---”

He took a step forward, missing the fact that she was right in front of him. Yasha bumped into her--- for some reason, that brought him back to where he was. He’s looking at her again. 

And Anko is looking at… she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know how to take his confession. This man looked less like her sensei (tall, piercing eyes, calm at every question, dismissive when he has to) and more like her old friends. The ones left still fighting the war in their heads.

“That brings you back?” Anko isn’t really interested in the answer. She decided that his answers are not worth this. “Thinking about them? I get it when I’m at a similar place. Like hospitals.” She’s more concerned about leading Yashamaru slowly back to the bench on his porch. Lead him back to the present in Sunrise Cove. Lead him back to where he was having a conversation with a woman who is both scared, but also grateful that he chose to help (and has bent over backwards and done summersaults just to make sure she’s okay).

She isn’t here to make it worse for him.

“You know, last night I saw you making the little toys,” Anko sat Yashamaru down beside her. She made herself loud-- an easy contrast to whatever’s going on in his head. “You know what would be cool? If you can make the bird appear like magic--- the kids would love it!”

Anko showed Yashamaru how to seal small objects on a surface, with the leaf from beside the bench as their focus. Drew the seal on the floor. She even threw in a seal that would create smoke. Yashamaru slowly took a palm leaf, one of the many discarded on the floor, and started folding another bird.

He was slow in folding. Deliberate. Steady. Wordless. Anko was no sensor, but she could feel the adrenaline-fast pace of his heartbeat.

She let him come back at his own pace. Watching as his folding got better; his eyes adjusting to what’s in front of him. He handed her the palm leaf toy. Anko placed it over the seal, then brought his hand over the toy. She nudged him on how to seal the bird in.

She told him how to create the smoke, and a small spark. The bird sat in all its glory where the seal once was.

Then the small palm-leaf bird started to flap its wings and rise up.

Anko’s eyes widened. Hah, she almost missed the thin chakra strings attached to the bird’s wings. Her eyes traced the strings from the bird to Yashamaru’s fingers.

Click. Click. Click.

Because there is only one place famous for the use of chakra strings and it perfectly fit his features. Because Sunagakure had a Jinchuuriki and she remembered that Chuunin exam (who could forget?). And she remembered the red-haired boy’s sister. She remembered the face and all the pieces click click clicked together--- and yet there were too many questions trapped in the cogs of this theory.

Because this is not only something she’s figured out on her own-- but a wordless confession in exchange for her trust. Yashamaru who has put out more for her trust than any sane shinobi would.

For penitence, she realized.

“You’re not so bad, Yashamaru,” Anko decided, “You’re not the worst I’ve seen.”

Yashamaru turned towards her. A lot more oriented than before but still---- “One of the, ah, things I was going to try to use to drain your chakra was this tea,” he explained, “It’s not for the chakra per se, but it keeps a person calm. It’s good for…”

“Jitters?”

He laughed. “Yeah, jitters. I was also thinking of either spacing it out. Doing the draining little by little so you get used to it. Or, ah, to drain it as quickly as possible so you don’t stay in that moment. What do you think?”

Anko put on a slightly exaggerated thinking face. She already knew her answer. “I think the little by little bit works… but we don’t have to do it now if you’re not feeling---”

“I feel much better,” Yashamaru and his awkward smiles. “Thank you for teaching me this.”

“You’ll be a hit with the kids tomorrow.”

Or later. She’s no longer sure how much time has passed. (That and apparently, no one really liked using clocks in this side of the world.)

Yashamaru stood up to get the tea for Anko. “It might be a bit bitter,” he apologized.

“Thank you,” Anko took the cup of tea. She lifted the cup to drink the tea, all the while watching him arrange the materials before her. His eyes checking, double checking, running the steps through his head. Jittery. “Would you like to share some?” Anko asked, lifting up her cup.

He opened his mouth--- then closed it again. Deciding between a polite professional refusal and a more practical “Yes, please. Thank you.” Yashamaru took the tea cup with both hands. He let the cup sit on his hands for a beat before finally drinking.

Silence filled the space between them. The tea would probably take a few minutes to work--- for her heart to slow down just enough to keep her in place.

Anko leaned back, her eyes wandering to the tall trees. She could hear the waves lapping at the shore at a distance. Feel the night wind on her skin. The goosebumps they leave when they pass. The heavy joints and limbs attached to her. The birds making these strange but familiar sounds.

Most of all, she heard the quiet. But it wasn’t the uncomfortable quiet--- it didn’t demand to be filled with useless talk. Or with unwanted thoughts creeping like insects in her head.

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay. Your heart stopped racing yet?” He didn’t reply. That silence sat uncomfortably on her stomach. “Once it starts, it usually takes longer to go away,” Anko said, pulling her legs close to her, arms wrapped around it. “I sleep all day the next day. They didn’t understand how exhausting it is and I couldn’t explain it either.”

Yashamaru just nodded his head. “It’s well enough, though.” He turned towards her and asked for her arm or… “Where would you like me to start?” He held his hand out, palm up, asking.

Anko could feel the sharp pain of two venomous fangs on her neck. She wanted to touch the spot--- press down on it. Like a knot she could remove with persistent effort. She didn’t want him to touch that area.

“Maybe here?” She lifted her left hand and extended it to Yasha. It hung in the air, not touching his hand.

Yashamaru looked around and excused himself-- off he disappeared back into the house. Anko turned to see where he had gone. It’s a few seconds later when he resurfaced holding a small pillow. He placed the pillow on his lap, close to where Anko had extended her hand. “You might get tired holding it up.”

“You might have forgotten what sort of training shinobi usually go through.” She lay her hand on the pillow nonetheless and Yasha shot her a sheepish smile. Embarrassed, somehow, for thinking of her comfort.

“This might be a bit cold, okay? If it hurts, tell me.”

Yashamaru’s hands glowed green.


End file.
